The Hammer or the Song?
by TiaLeffy
Summary: What would happen if Thor had a younger sister? What if she had to choose between the biological justice or the adopted favour?
1. Chapter 1

**(Eir in Norse mythology is actually the goddess of health and healing, and is said to have been the handmaiden of the goddess Frigga. Since Marvel can screw around with mythology, so can I.)**

Year 1512, Asgard. A big banquet was set to celebrate the long-lasting peace throughout the Nine Realms. Held in the glorious Palace of Asgard, laughter and cheer rang through the walls and shook all the pillars.

However, in the corner of the Palace's massive banquet hall, a young girl, stood, arms folded, in the shadow of a golden pillar. She was about 12903 years old, though she functioned like and looked the age of the average 13-year old Midgardian girl. Her turquoise dinner dress was long and its hem grazed the floor, perfect for hiding her face into, though she was not fortunate enough to be able to do so just yet. Her long golden locks done up in a crown of braids across the crown of her head and her eyes, light and very blue, almost cyan, could have formed a lovely gaze, but not at this time.

The girl's name was Eir. She was a goddess and daughter of Frigga and Odin, sister of Thor and Loki. She bore many resemblances to her mother in terms of appearance and gentle character, but her fault was in her temper that was that of her father's. She was learning to control this. Her physique was not nearly as robust as her brother Thor's, and preferred to rely on her ability to heal and her intellect to solve things. Her sarcasm, wit, and ability to quietly remain in productively deep thought came by the company of her brother, Loki. She had the power to create and control life, and was a young healer of Asgard. As her own person she was an appreciator of the Arts and of science, and had a quiet, caring nature.

One important detail we missed:

She *hated* big dinner parties like this.

Well, not exactly, she just hated being made to speak, made to perform a lot of social interaction on a constant and high speed basis, made to be with lots of people in a loud room, she hated being forced to stand around and fake a smile and be treated like a little, yet big deal. She wanted to be left alone.

Not alone, just, left alone.

Unseen as usual, she slipped away behind that same old pillar towards that same old hidden staircase down that same old passageway and into the sanctity of the golden corridor. Carefully she scrunched the hem of her turquoise and gold dress (so as not to tread on it), and stalked towards the large and familiar dark green doors framed in gold. She looked around to ensure privacy before she slipped her hand around the smooth door handles and opened her gateway to silence.

Once inside, she shut the enormous doors, her beloved barriers between her sanctuary and the giddying outside throng, and slid down the walls so that her knees were tucked up under her chin, under the long dinner dress.

Peace.

At long last.

The adolescent goddess allowed herself to breathe as she took in the comforting familiarity of the room's atmosphere. Not her own, for her own room had decor not of her own choice and therefore did not suit her so much as this one, which was her brother's. She rested her forehead on her covered knees, letting her gold hair create a reassuring veil around herself, around her mind.

Unbeknownst to her, she was not alone.

She was merely left alone.

The other, considerate figure chose to leave her to recuperate for a few minutes whilst he read his book.

A few moments passed after which he chose to break the sweet silence.

"Eir."

The voice who called was a disturbance and yet not. A pleasant disturbance, if you will.

She smiled.

"Loki."

He smirked in response.

"What are you doing in here?" he queried, as he slowly sat next to his sister, eye contact maintained as he studied her distressed expression.

She breathed a sigh in that mixture of a scoff, relief, and that tinge of weariness, both of whom were familiar with such a sigh.

Just with that sigh Loki's eyebrows softened into a mild expression of understanding and sympathy. Nevertheless he kept his attention un-wavered.

"I just...I just hate everything going on out there." she managed.

He understood, yet didn't resist the temptation of sarcasm: "How very articulate.", he quipped, and raised an eyebrow.

Sarcasm was, after all, in their nature.

Another scoff escaped Eir's lips as she gave her brother a gentle nudge.

"You know what I mean. The noise, the people, the questions, the masks everyone-"

"...hides behind?" he finished.

Eir gave a weary nod despite her wan smile.

The elder brother nodded in sympathy. The two sat in the company of each other's silence for quite a while.

Loki decided to begin with a low laugh and asked, "Thor's having a great time, isn't he?"

Eir nodded.

"He always does, ever the extrovert. Must be some sort of separation between eldest and the rest."

Loki smiled to himself. Their eldest brother was 18025 (18-year-old Midgardian), he was 16140 (16).

Of course, the pair loved their eldest brother, to bits. Yet at some times they found him to be a little too loud and boisterous.

After a bit of thought, Loki changed the subject: "Why did you choose to hide in my room?"

Eir paused, partially stunned by the question. She almost always retreated to this room during parties as a sanctuary but never stopped to wonder why here instead of anywhere else. The ever so benevolent god of mischief gave her time to ponder before she finally said:

"I suppose I like it here, I like the colour, I like the decor. It has lots of books and just about anything I'd need to stay here."

Loki smiled and silently took the remark as a compliment seeing that he chose the furnishing of his room on his own, before he once again asked, "Why not your own?"

Eir didn't pause this time, "The arrangement of my room doesn't suit me. It's red but I like turquoise and it's full of pointless little metal figurines of muscular women killing people, I don't like it. I feel like the kingdom wants me to be a brutal lady who goes around violently killing everything for nothing. I'm not like that; this is just because I was born a Valkyrie. My room doesn't let me be me. I don't like the Viking mentality."

Loki took this in. It was quite the unexpected answer.

"I-...I'm sorry I lashed out." she added as an afterthought.

"Not at all," he reassured, absentmindedly. Once again both were allowed to drink the silence that hung in the air.

10 minutes passed.

15.

20.

Loki stood up.

"I do not wish to upset you, sister, but we should be heading back."

Eir groaned despite her knowledge of the truth of this.

"Must we really?"

"They will wonder where we are."

"Will they?"

"Good point."

Eir smirked at the minor triumph, but took her brother's outstretched hand and stood with him. She breathed a sigh.

"Come on. I will stay with you, all right?" he said, offering comfort and reassurance. His voice dropped into a low half-whisper. The right side of his lip curled upwards into a sideways grin.

The young girl looked up at the 16-year old and gave a soft smile.

"All right."

He took her small hand in his and gave it a courteous kiss before he offered his arm.

Eir rolled her eyes.

"You never play the gentleman around other girls."

Loki gave a proper laugh for the first time that day.

"You're the only one worth it besides Mother."

She gave him a playful slap on the arm. "Shut up."

The siblings shared a short moment of laughter before they simmered down. She took his still waiting arm and they walked out of the room, down the corridor and back in front of the banquet hall doors.

Loki drew in a deep breath and then slowly exhaled. "Ready?" he asked.

"No."

"Good."

He cracked the doors open and the two descended the staircase into the garish glittering gathering of Asgardians.

No one knew they had ever left the party.


	2. Chapter 2

Now Year 16813, 5301 years later. Once again there was fanfare and joyous celebration for the coronation of a new king. Dignities from various realms and regions of Asgard had made special trips and arrangements to witness this. The Palace was decked out in daffodils, specially delivered from a few pages who had went on errand to Midgard.

Meanwhile, the royal siblings were nearly ready for the ceremony to take place, concealed behind a golden curtain.

"Ooh, nice feathers."

Loki remarked dryly upon witnessing the passing of the winged helmet to Thor by a servant.

Thor gave a low, mocking laugh and retorted: "You don't really want to start this again, do you, cow?"

"I was being sincere."

"You are incapable of sincerity."

"Am I?"

"Boys," interrupted Eir, with a twinge of sarcasm in her tone, "let's not forget the one who has an *actual* animal sculpted into her helmet."

The day of the bestowing of her helmet, her Rite of Passage, came 4003 years ago and she was given a beautifully crafted bronze helmet, bronze being her accent metal, curved into a delicate point both at the front and back, and with smooth turquoises molded along the crown. The head and slender S-shaped neck of a swan welded to the front of her helmet and its wings dissolving into waves along the sides, like water, so that her profile showed a gliding swan. It very much suited the gentle and calm nature of the goddess of healing, though one may admit that a swan sticking out of the front of one's forehead may come across mildly comical. Then again, just about as much as wings sprouting out the sides of one's head, or as much as "cow horns".

Her elder brothers laughed heartily at her attempt to disperse the banter, and once again the mood grew more serious as the time of the coronation drew near...

A small smile graced Eir's small but full lips as she watched her eldest brother proudly stride down the carpet, waving, winking, walking with an undeniable swagger. Always the same old Thor. She was glowing with pride at the thought of her brother finally ascending the throne, though she knew deep inside that he was not yet ready; his current behaviour was displaying it. Such overwhelming confidence was not fit for a king.

Loki was doing his best to suppress a scowl.

The procedure began. With every "I will!" from Thor, Eir's uncertainty of his readiness to rule was being gently nourished. Her doubt was perfectly masked by a smile and the layer of light makeup.

She'd grown to be a pretty young woman, though not quite as strong physically as her father would have liked. In fact, she was a little thinner than anyone would have preferred. Her strength lay in her intellect and skill; she had developed her healing powers to an incredibly powerful extent, and was well-versed in biophysics. She grew from appreciating Arts to studying it: she was an elegant dancer, though that was not too greatly appreciated in the Viking society. She often painted, and found joy in acting.

She took her gaze off Thor and let it wander to her second brother, Loki. Their eyes met and they exchanged knowing smirks, it would appear they were both reflecting on Thor's display of cockiness. Oh well. She looked back down at her dark blue leather shirtsleeves and tugged at the wrists, slipping into thoughtful fidget.

"I hereby pronounce you..."

Her train of thought de-railed and crashed as she looked back up at her father upon hearing the gallantly-delivered words.

Suddenly, there was a pause, a rather long pause, at that. Many say that the most powerful tool of sound is silence, and in such circumstances, not few could agree more. The silence freed space to allow tension to take the place of sound.

"The Frost Giants..." muttered Odin.

Eir was stunned for a moment, like everyone else. The throne room was cloaked in confusion. She noticed Thor standing up from his kneel to follow the Allfather, who had risen from his throne and had proceeded towards the south staircase. She followed suit, with Loki closeby. She noticed, or so thought, the slightest glint in his eyes, but ignored it.

'_It must simply be the light'_, she thought.

As Thor raged on about the "monsters" upon discovering the missing casket, Loki and Eir shared silent sympathy. An air of "calm the heck down!" waved between the two as they watched the eldest brother become frantic for the sake of "his" kingdom, Loki's signature look of mild vexation and raised eyebrow crossing his face.

Before long, Eir had no idea what they had gotten themselves into. The Warriors three, Loki, Sif, and she had all been somehow persuaded by Thor to have a bloody picnic down in Jotunheim. All was not going as anyone hoped. A gruff, rolling voice grabbed at her attention.

"Run along home, little princess."

"Damn."

Eir grew exasperated and quickly muttered: "Oh for Asgard's sake-"

A battle ensued, and Eir noticed that Thor, amongst the others, was relying on pure brute strength and wild swings more than skill.

This would not end well.

"Don't let them touch you!"

Sif knocked a Frost Giant out of the way as Eir was distracted by watching the results of Fandral's contact with the beast.

"Watch yourself." Sif warned with a hint of irritation in her tone.

Eir muttered short thanks to both Fandral and Sif, one genuine and one backhanded, respectively.

In the meantime, of course, ever the Bruce Wayne, Loki was working with his magic alone.

In retrospect, it would be doubted that anyone could account very much happening. Thor had made his last stupid move of flinging Mjolnir into the ice, and they were running. They were all running for their very lives, already quite durable by the general Realms' standards. At this point no one blamed anyone, there was no time. They would just have to run as though their lives depended on it. Frankly speaking, of course, it did.

Thankfully, however, Odin had saved them all as well as the casket. He had come down and they were all transported back to Asgard as curiously as Odin had arrived.

**This chapter may or may not have turned out to be incredibly boring, it's mainly the stuff that happened in **_**Thor, **_**but with Eir injected into it. Reading this will probably help with continuity for the next chapter, though. Thanks so much for reading thus far!**


	3. Chapter 3

In the royal throne room of Asgard, the Warriors and Sif had been well and duly scolded, and then sent away, Odin saw not as much fault in them as in Thor. He had been singled out and heavily berated. Eir and Loki were forced to stay behind and solemnly watch and listen as Odin harshly questioned Thor on his decision to "bring your friends and your sister into this? and Loki?".

To the young and still cocky heir to the throne of Asgard, this was not pleasing. Feeling, of course, that he was of absolutely no fault, he retorted against and increasing number of the Allfather's remarks against him. The argument snowballed:

"You are too proud, Thor."  
"and you are a coward!"

This started a chain of insults that evolved into the last few lines:

"You are a vain, greedy, and cruel boy!"  
"and you are an old man and a fool!"

This furious banter was terrifying Eir. Though already a young lady and born of Viking and Valkyrian blood, she despised and feared war in any form.  
This furious banter was simultaneously bringing a mild fear yet amusement to Loki. Finally, his brother humiliated.  
He was being given the most attention, granted, but still humiliated.

Their attentions were turned and their thoughts snapped to watching the event that would change their lives, all of theirs, for eternity.

"You are unworthy of all the trust and power that has been bestowed upon you!"  
Odin was busy ripping Thor's armour to pieces. Eir watched in horror, Thor in indignant confusion, Loki in seemingly complete calmness and serenity.

Odin had stripped Thor of all his glory: his armour falling to pieces and disintegrating, Mjolnir taken away. For that one moment in the splendid throne room, the sight of the plain prince was out of place, like a weed in a field of roses.

The invisible scroll of things Thor had been deemed unworthy of had been written in Odin's head, in block letters, and used to slay Thor's previously displayed arrogance.

"I, Odin Allfather, cast you out!"  
His thundering voice boomed, it seemed all the Realms could have heard it. Loki was stunned as the significance of this event hit him on the head, and witnessing the extent of his father's power and fury was surreal.

By this time, Eir had been watching, breathing heavily, shaking. Her eyes grew wide. A tear or two had grown up behind her retinas and in a fit of immaturity, got sent away down her cheeks. Upon watching her brother being thrown away out of a dall conjured by Odin, she ran out of the throne room. She was flung into state of shock, to say the least. Loki saw no other option but to follow suit, but not without pausing to hear the words that his father breathed upon Mjolnir:

"_Whosoever holds this hammer, if he be worthy, shall possess the power of Thor."_

In the banquet hall, The Warriors and Sif were having spontaneous yet fruitless discussion over the day's events. Loki burst in to find that Eir had "joined" them, sitting in the corner and keeping to herself. It would appear she had been questioned prior to his arrival, and the news of Thor's outcast had just been freshly delivered, the weight of the parcel hanging in the air.

Only ten minutes later, Loki left the banquet hall where Volstagg, Fandral, Hogun, Sif, Eir, and he were having a chat. Well, except Eir. She had fallen very quiet, but very understandably. She loved Thor.

"So does everyone else."  
He thought bitterly. Everyone had found fault in him when he revealed that it was he who had told the guards to alert Odin of their venture. He had saved their lives! They were stupid ingrates, all of them, especially Sif. Sif had been particularly agitated, and Loki had long noted that she had a fondness for Thor that he would never experience from her. She preferred Thor over him.  
Of course, he had grown coldly accustomed to such. Everybody loved Thor more so than they loved him. It seemed he wasn't meant for favour even if he deserved it.

Now, for the casket.  
He was making his way down to the basement, where he was with his siblings and father earlier in the day, ready to get his hands on the incredible source of power. Power both scientifically and in terms of status. Oh yes. He could show them all now once he got the casket and figured all the things he could do using it. All the things he could prove himself worthy to be. He felt in him a dark glimmer of desire, the desperation for approval ever since he was a child. He felt it, it was a black rope, rough and ugly, but in his eyes smooth and golden, and it had a tight grip on his heart and mind and soul. He was jolting, pulling him towards the holding room of the casket.

He quickly recalled the strange thing that had happened to him when he came into contact with a Frost Giant earlier in the day in Jotunheim, the species with whom he arranged to wreak havoc on his brother's coronation day.

A smile crossed his lips. A decision he did not quite regret at this point in time.

For some reason, unlike Fandral's arm, which had turned a sick grey when the Frost Giant touched it, his whole hand had gone a vivid shade of blue. He had had that on his mind the whole day, wondering if it meant only one thing. He had to get to the casket to find the truth, and when he did, no matter the result, he would have access to the casket, take it, and go from there.

Meanwhile, after Loki had departed from the banquet hall, Eir sat for a few moments before silently leaving the group.

"Where are you going?" Volstagg questioned, concerned. Eir's hand was resting on the door handle. She sighed.

"A- um, upstairs."_  
_

She almost said "away".

She wished she could.

With that, she left, leaving the four a little puzzled and disheartened. Thor cast away, Loki stormed off, Eir looking strangely crestfallen as opposed to her usual quiet but happy glow. One by one, they departed with half-hearted goodbyes.

It was a lot to bear. Eir ran off to her room, where she had a bed to lie on, space to think,

but no brotherly shoulder to cry on.

**Thank you for the feedback! I'm trying not to go over the same old film stuff, but I think it'll take time, it's my first time writing anything like this. Hope you enjoyed the Loki Thought Process.**


	4. Chapter 3 and a half (?)

"I _will_ have the casket," he thought.  
"I will."

He strode purposefully, arms ever so slightly swinging, fists clenched. As he walked, he let a soft green glow leak out and shroud himself. He inhaled and exhaled slowly, reveling in the experience. His long fingers stretched themselves out and relaxed, his whole being relaxed as he performed his magic, now almost absentmindedly due to years of training and usage. Now the glow grew strong, and flickered glaringly white for just a split second before quickly retreating to its familiar green shade and then disappearing, and in Mischief's place stood the image of a palace guard, about 5 inches shorter than his true form. All this happened in three steps of movement.

He loved magic. He was infatuated with it. Since young he had been fascinated with his mother's magic and was overwhelmed with quiet, quivering joy when he was bestowed the same abilities as she was. He recounted to glorious experience, her hands on his head, that bluish light growing and shielding him until the glow turned green, and faded, and he felt a strange strong life surging within him. It was exciting. From then on he would practice, every day, learn new techniques, new tricks. New tricks. Tricks to trick friend and foe, guardian and Asgardian, and the occasional Midgardian on the first dawning of April. Then of course, he always knew it as that one special thing he could do that Thor couldn't. His intellect, his magic. Those were his psychological sanctuaries where he knew he could do it, he always could. Thor would beat him at anything else, he seemed to think. Like pleasing people. Like pleasing Father. Like being liked. Like being trusted.

He painfully kept on walking. Thinking of such things, he wanted to stop. He wanted to stop dead in his tracks and turn around and start all over. But it was too late. There was no stopping anymore. He was in disguise now. He was reaching it now, the chamber of the casket. He wanted it now. He wanted it now. He had the power. He wanted it now. His pace quickened for a few steps and then subsided back into his striding pace.

Of course, his disguise was not just to please his fetish for magic. He was not to be trusted anywhere, and whether or not he was, was as of now not important. Keeping disguised was key to attaining to the casket. He cracked his left hand's knuckles, drawing attention from the two doorway guards to himself, and from his left hand behind his back conjured a false scroll with a false Odin's insignia bearing a message supposedly from the King, requesting this guard be provided access to the casket in order to bring it to him. He went to the guards and nodded in greeting, maintaining his poker face as his dealer's hand revealed the golden parchment.

Finally, access granted.  
He walked another long walkway to get his hands on unlimited potential power. Looking around to ensure his privacy, he walked slowly up to the steps.

**Hello! Firstly, I would like to thank one and all so much for the incredible support this story's gotten. I didn't even expect much for my first story, but every email notification I get telling me someone is following the story urges me to go and continue writing! Secondly, huge apologies for not finishing a new chapter for so long, I swear I wrote a Chapter Four, and it got lost in the cosmos of my computer due to not saving work. I am in the midst of working on it now, but I hope this mini chapter has made up for it. Notice I never mention his name but you know who he is. Next proper chapter moves to Eir!**


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